Of My Father's Love For Her
by Blue Interior
Summary: In the aftermath of the destruction of Erebor, Frerin tells his son a story of the most wonderful woman in the world. Years later and leagues upon leagues away, Valka travels Middle Earth in her wagon, telling stories of her giant dwarf and their whirlwind love and the two greatest treasures Mahal ever granted her.
1. Prologue

As the dust settled and the people's cries faded on the wind, three figures stood alone in the ruins of their ancestral home.

To the left, a small woman held her son close to her, not minding his frightened wails a fig, just grateful he was alive.

To the right, a great hulking bear of a man cradled an infant to his chest in one hand and held a little boy by the other.

In the middle, the eldest felt the weight of the world, and all his new responsibilities, sink slowly onto his shoulders.

"Thorin," his sister's cracked and grieving voice and her soft little hand on his shoulder broke him of his reverie, "it's almost nightfall. We have to move."

He gazed blankly down at the confused masses below and heaved a sigh.

"You're right. Come, let's take the children to Father."

Clucking softly to the little boy at her heels like a hen gathering her chicks, Dis took her son by the hand and began down the rocky path to where they'd left their father and grandfather to rest.

The youngest of the royal trio gazed down at the babe nestled against his chest. "Are you sure there's been no word of her? Has no one seen my Val?"

Thorin placed a consoling hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Frerin. If we could stay and look for every lost soul, we would. But we must look after the survivors first. You must care for Valka's children."

The great lumbering ox bowed his head, completely hollowed with grief. "Can we not wait another day?"

Thorin sighed, taking his little nephew by the hand. "Frerin, you know we cannot. The people need food and water and shelter. We cannot think only of ourselves."

"I'M NOT-" Frerin cut himself off, reminding himself of the babe who somehow slept through all the commotion, "-I'm not thinking of myself at all, brother. I'm thinking of Valka and the boy and this babe who needs her mother, Thorin."

Equally grieved but grave, Thorin gave his brother a sharp look. "Frerin, yours are not the only children who have lost their mother. We cannot stay here and risk the dragon's reemergence while we try to salvage every last body from the wreckage. I'm sorry, Frerin, I truly am, but we have to move." He clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder and made his way down the incline after their sister.

Frerin took deep, steadying breaths, clenching his free fist until his knuckles went white, trying to harness his grief in his children's presence. "Ada?" His little son pulled at the bottom of his coat. "Where's Ami?"

Frerin knelt and brushed his boy's hair out of his face the way Valka used to in an attempt to calm both himself and the poor boy. "Valkrin, Amad isn't coming back."

"Did the dragon get her?" Poor little Valkrin's lip trembled at the thought.

Frerin took his son by the shoulders and gave him a gentle, reproachful shake. "No. No, Valkrin, that beast never touched a hair on Ama's head. She's just gone to stay with Ugmil-Amad at Mahal's house. Do you understand?"

Valkrin reached out and petted his sister's downy head in lieu of an answer. "Is Ama going to miss Valkris? I think Valkris is gonna miss Ama, even if she is too little."

Frerin's heart broke. How was he supposed to answer that?

"Son, I think your Ama is going to miss you and Valkris even more than you miss her. Never, ever forget how much Ama loves you, Valkrin."

As if irritated that she wasn't the center of attention anymore, the infant Valkris let out a cranky, disgruntled wail. Her brother started, eyes wide and worried.

"Is she okay, Ada?" Frerin pet his little girl's back and rocked her back and forth in his great big arms.

"Yes, Valkrin, I think she'll be alright. Just scared and tired, I think is all." Big brother instincts kicked in and little Valkrin reached up and pulled off the sooty blanket-like garment he'd been wearing and handed it to his father.

"Here, Ada. It's Ami's shawl and it still smells like her. Maybe Ris will like it." Floored by his son's selfless, innocent goodwill, Frerin took the enormous white garment, trimmed in gold and flowers of all colors, and wrapped it around poor little Valkris. She stilled, breathing heavily, then her mouth began working as if nursing, connecting the smell with the mother with the innate sense of safety.

Frerin almost broke down then and there with the realization that this shawl was the closest his children would ever get to their mother again.

He felt so helpless with his crying children, he always had, since the day Valkrin was born. Valka, sweet blessed Valka, would smile reassuringly, take the babe, and settle herself into his lap or chest or arms and let him wrap himself around her so they could soothe their babe together.

Taking even, deep breaths, Frerin nestled Valkris into the dip between his bicep and pectoral, letting her tiny hands settle in the fur of his cloak. He took Valkrin up in his other arm. He was loathe to let them out of his sight for even a heartbeat.

Dis awaited him at the bottom of the incline, her son tugging on her hands. "Amaaaaaa, I'm hungryyyyy," She visibly bit her tongue, patience clearly wearing thin.

"I know, my dove, we're all hungry. Be patient." Her son Fili just pouted and rested his head against her side. She ran her fingers through his mussed hair and he closed his eyes. Her eyes, desperate and scared and worried, met Frerin's.

"What are we going to do?" She whispered, hefting Fili up onto her hip. He shook his head, dropping an absent kiss onto Valkris's hair.

"I'm as frightened as you are, Dis. Thorin, he's incredibly brave and capable, and I trust him, but-"

"I know you trust him, Frerin, how could we not?"

"Let me finish, Dis," Frerin said impatiently as they picked their way down the path, "I trust Thorin and his judgment, but he is not a father. He has no children. He can't see this the way you and I do, Dis."

Dis frowned, clearly in agreement, but loathe to admit even the smallest doubt in their brother. "He has much on his mind, Frerin."

He nodded, and pieces of debris fell from his hair onto his shoulders. Valkrin picked a small bit of masonry off of his father's broad chest and rolled it over in his hands, wondering what part of the mountain it was from.

"I know that, and I've no reason to doubt him, but I worry that with Grandfather whispering in his ear, our brother may falter."

Dis whipped her head around to look into his eyes, her steely gaze something Frerin had learned to fear very early in his childhood. Even now, as a grown man, it sent a shiver down his spine.

"Hold your tongue," she hissed, "From your mouth to Mahal's ears. _I_ chose to hope that now, away from the gold," she paused, trying to figure out how to phrase it delicately, "he will...return to us." Frerin frowned, but Dis wasn't finished. "I refuse to believe otherwise."

Frerin glanced down at his sister. They still hadn't found her husband, Vili, and he knew she was just as frightened and worried and stressed as he. "We'll find him," he murmured, knowing what she needed to hear.

She inhaled shakily and nodded, holding Fili a little tighter. "Of course we will. And we'll find Val, too." She tacked the last bit on as an afterthought, and Frerin's heart sank a little further.

They both knew Valka wasn't coming back, but neither would be the first to say it.

At the bottom of the path, Thorin, Thrain, and Thror waited for them. Their mother, Dara, clung to her husband's arm with trembling fingers and wide, panicky eyes. In her youth, she'd been a strong, vivacious woman who braved Thrain's temper and gave back as good as she got, but after an accident in the mines that left her trapped for two days, she was left a jumpy, anxious shell.

It broke Frerin's heart to see her reduced to this every time he looked at her.

Dara let go of Thrain's arm just long enough to brush her fingers over Fili's cheek, take Valkrin's little hand in hers, and run her knuckles gently along Valkris's chubby arm. Satisfied that her grandchildren were well and in one piece, she retreated back to Thrain's waiting arms.

Frerin had to wonder if some of the woman she once was still remained, waiting, in the back of her mind.

Once satisfied that all the Durins were present and accounted for - save Vili and Valka - the remnants of the once mighty family trekked to the secluded area where a tent city had been temporarily erected while the people searched for their lost loved ones.

Thrain's tent left room for only Thror and Dara to join him, so Frerin, Thorin, and Dis bade them goodnight and wandered the city a while longer until they came to their own tent, shared between the six of them. It had been intended for eight, but...no, Frerin wouldn't think of her. He couldn't, not yet.

Thorin set about making a fire to busy his hands and mind. Dis took the boys to get them cleaned for bed and Frerin attempted to entice wee Valkris with a clay bottle filled with goat's milk. This sorry substitute would have to do until he found either Valka or a wet nurse. He prayed it was the former.

Valkris, however, was not one to settle for less than she'd come to expect, and spat out the goat's milk with an almighty wail. Frerin cursed and wiped her face dry. "Dis!" He called frantically over his shoulder, "Dis, she won't take it!"

She sighed, grabbing Valkrin by the back of the tunic as he attempted to escape her bedtime efforts. "Just let her adjust, Frerin. She won't take immediately because she doesn't understand why it's different. Just - _Fili, try that again and I'll send you to Grandfather so fast your head will still be spinning next week_ \- give it another go, let her try it again."

Frerin heaved a sigh as she went back to wrestling their boys. "Come on, Val," he crooned, hoping his voice might calm her enough to take the milk, "I know you want Ami, but this is all I've got to give you right now."

Mahal help him, he'd never felt so damned _helpless_ in his life as Valkris ignored him completely and kept on wailing.

"Here," Thorin's deep rumble was a welcome contrast to the chaos around them. "Let me try." Frerin gladly handed his screeching infant over to her uncle.

Thorin took her gently, turning her so that her head was on his shoulder and her feet hung at his ribs, nearly the opposite of how Frerin had been holding her. He rubbed her back gently, rocking her back and forth and letting her little fists close around one of his dangling braids. Valkris's wails receded to sniffles in her uncle's embrace.

Frerin gaped. "How-"

Thorin just smirked and held out a hand for the bottle. Dumbly, Frerin watched as Thorin deftly slid it into her little mouth and, after a moment's confusion, began drinking greedily.

"She just didn't like being held like a sack of potatoes, Frerin, that's all." The younger Durin let his head fall into his hands and rubbed his eyes wearily.

"I can't do this without Val, Thorin. I'm hopeless with her, I'm hopeless with them both. I'm not...I'm not a good enough father, Thorin."

Thorin scowled. "Don't you say that, Frerin, you're a wonderful father. Just because Valkris cries doesn't mean you're hopeless. You're just out of practice. Valkrin adores you, Frerin. Would he feel that way if you were truly a bad father, hm?"

Frerin nodded, watching his baby girl in his brother's arms. "Val always knew what to do with them. I just, I never know the way she did."

Thorin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Valkris would cry in the middle of the night, and Val just knew, right away if she was hungry, or wet, or frightened before she even got out of bed! I don't even know how to change her if she's wet."

He was comforted by a pair of arms wrapping around his neck. He peered over his shoulder and found Dis watching him with badly suppressed mirth in her eyes. "I'll teach you whatever you need to know." She looked up and smiled at Thorin. "The three of us, together, can and will survive anything."

Finally, Valkris fell asleep in Thorin's arms, and he promptly handed her over to an amusingly uncomfortable Frerin to put to bed. He settled her in a nest of sorts made of Valka's shawl and Frerin's fur cape. He brushed one rough, scarred knuckle over her soft, round cheek and left her to sleep.

The Durin siblings sat around the fire in an easy silence. It felt fitting not to talk, or laugh on a night like this, when so many were dead or missing. Thorin was just putting on some water to boil when a runner came from the Healers' tent to inform Dis that Vili was alive, but in their care. She shot one sorry, guilty look at a still wife-less Frerin, and darted off into the night to sit with Vili.

Thorin sat up late into the night, just watching his little brother stare into the leaping flames, completely lost to the world. He remembered the day Valka and Frerin met, how she took a great bumbling giant of a dwarf masquerading as a prince and made him into a confident, dashing, heroic, romantic husband and wonderful father.

She'd blessed them all since the moment she waltzed into their lives. She'd helped Dis and Vili adjust to parenthood, taught Thorin to balance his work while maintaining his sanity, even helped Dara when panic seized her in her dark moments.

Thorin and Frerin were jolted from their reveries when Valkrin, out of bed against his Auntie Dis's express orders, tugged on his father's sleeve. "Ada, I can't sleep."

Frerin hefted the boy into his lap, smoothing back his curls and noting his flushed cheeks, hoping it was the heat of the fire and not fever.

"Nightmares, Valkrin?"

The little boy nodded, and Frerin wished he was able to march into that mountain and slaughter that thrice-damned dragon with his bare hands for taking his wife and giving his little boy nightmares.

He took a deep breath, calming his temper and wrapped his arms around his son. "What does Ami do to make it better?"

Valkrin buried his face in Frerin's tunic. "She told me happy stories."

Frerin straightened, feeling better. Tell a happy story, he could do that. "All right, what kind of story?"

He turned his big amber eyes up to his father, and Frerin knew the raw trust in them would cripple him if he wasn't careful. "One about Ami?"

His confidence faltered. "Er...are you sure?"

Valkrin nodded sharply. He was sure.

Frerin settled his son more comfortably on his knees and took a breath. "Alright. I met your Ami on a rainy day in Dale, many years ago…"

* * *

 **Ok, I know I stole the name from HTTYD, but Valka and Frerin are heavily influenced by Stoick and Valka. So, Frerin is faced with telling little** **Valkrin everything about his Ami...good luck, Frerin!**


	2. When Frerin Met Valka

_Frerin settled his son more comfortably on his knees and took a breath. "Alright. I met your Ami on a rainy day in Dale, many years ago…"_

* * *

It was a foul day in Dale when Frerin met Valka. The rain came down in icy sheets, soaking everything and freezing whatever unlucky soul who was unable to escape the downpour to the bone. Frerin was one such unlucky soul.

The son of Thrain was in town to secure a deal with a silk trader on his sister's behalf. The Durin's Day feast was just around the corner and Dis absolutely _needed_ Dorwinion red silk for her new gown. _Red silk, my arse,_ Frerin thought gloomily as he trudged through the rain, tugging his equally grumpy pony behind him.

His cloak, which his mother had sworn up and down would save him from an awful head cold should the storm move in, did absolutely no such thing, spilling and leaking and letting freezing rain soak into his hair and beard and drip down his neck. Frerin felt he looked somewhat like a drowned rat.

Dis was going to owe him _so many_ favors after this. If that frivolous sister of his could pull herself away from the mirror or the seamstress's for more than a heartbeat, she'd be out here in this storm, getting her own damn silk.

He continued on his way in this foul temper for some time, grumbling and cursing and wiping his soaked hair from his face. His brother often called him a bear, and for good reason, as moments like this proved.

Frerin thought that this trip couldn't get much worse, until he realized that as he'd paused to squint through the rain, hoping to spot the merchant's wagon, he'd stepped right into a pothole overflowing with muddy rainwater. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to quell his temper. _Just breathe in, hold it, and breathe back out. Yelling won't fix a soggy sock._

He pulled his foot from the puddle and shook it a few times, muttering to himself, and if a spectacular flash of lightning hadn't made him look up when he did, he might have missed the greatest sight of his life.

A young woman, a darrowdam by the looks of her, just as wet and miserable as he, was running down the street as fast as the slick cobblestone would allow, her long hair plastered to her face. She tried to swipe it aside, but the rain just pushed more into her eyes.

In her haste, she failed to notice the slick, flat stone serving as a threshold to a nearby tavern, which was no doubt slippery as a greased pig. As soon as her foot hit, it slid, sending the poor girl shrieking and gliding across it as though it were made of ice. Her arms windmilled, a poor attempt at regaining her balance. She flew across the slick stone, ramming right into Frerin. He grunted at the impact and caught her neatly, stumbling as she crashed into him.

He grinned down at her. "Hello, there."

She gaped, mouth working like a fish out of water, then found her words. "Sorry. Thank you. I have to go." She then began to try to wriggle and squirm her way out of his arms. Perhaps she _was_ a fish, Frerin mused, or at least part.

"Hold on, let me walk you home," She scoffed and pawed her hair from her eyes, squinting up at him through the deluge.

"Are you mad? You'll catch your death out here, go home!" Frerin shook his head.

"Too far from home to go back now," he shouted, "I've got nothing better to do!"

She shook her head again. Frerin thought she must find him quite exasperating to be shaking her head so much. Dis did the same thing.

"Where are you headed? Least I can do is point you in the right direction."

Frerin paused, consulting the soggy list Dis had given him, trying to decipher the running ink.

"I'm looking for the merchant Vadin." She studied him a moment, a faint smile playing at those wonderful, pink lips. Then, she spoke.

"Alright then, I 'spose you will get to walk me home. I live nearby the merchant's." Frerin grinned and took her arm, looping it through his.

"Don't want you to slip again." She smacked his arm.

"Cheeky," He just beamed at her and they hustled off down the street together, in the opposite way Frerin had been going because wasn't that just his luck?

The pair of them, plus the miserable pony, darted from overhang to arch to doorway, doing their best to avoid direct exposure to the rain, and having a ridiculous amount of fun doing it. In fact, Frerin bet her a hot cider she couldn't make it to that awning without slipping, and not only did she make it, but the awning gave almost as soon as she was under, dumping buckets worth of freezing cold rain water onto her head. She went stiff as a ramrod, shrieking at the top of her lungs.

Frerin thought he'd piss himself, he was laughing so hard. She fixed him with a venomous glare and waddled back over to his safe spot in a doorway, her dress clinging to her figure in the most wonderful way - not that Frerin was looking. He gulped down his laugh, trying to meet her eyes seriously, but they both lost and dissolved into giggles, which quickly morphed into shaky grins around chattering teeth as the cold set into their bones.

Frerin frowned. She'd told him he'd catch his death, but her lips looked a tad bit too blue for his liking. He wrapped a heavy arm around her shoulders. "Come on, let's get going. Don't want to have to explain to your family why I've brought them an icicle instead of a daughter."

She snickered and steered them in the right direction, blinking furiously to keep the water out of her eyes. Frerin figured those luxurious long lashes probably did her good, not that he was looking that closely.

The biggest wagon Frerin had ever seen, more of a cottage on wheels than what he'd been expected, painted in all kinds of bright, gaudy colors, bordering on garish, was parked on a corner. Little bells and painted flowers decorated the sky blue lintel over the arched dutch door. Frerin's soaked companion darted from beneath his arm and up the painted green ladder steps to the little porch and slumped against the door, wringing out her hair.

"Is this it?" She looked up and smiled, spreading her hands.

"This is it."

"You're Vadin's daughter," he marveled as the realization dawned on him. He really was a thick ox. Valka just grinned and knocked sharply.

The top half of the door swung open behind her, revealing a heavyset darrowdam with wide golden eyes and a spill of inky black hair held back in a long braid woven with golden ribbon. She wore a forest green dress under a white apron. Her eyes widened at the sight of them, and she pushed open the door with a gleeful cry. "Val! Come in, this storm very big. Very wet?" Her speech was rolling and heavily accented.

His little companion nodded and stepped in, pulling Frerin in with her. "Yes, Mama, we're _very_ wet." The big woman hummed disapprovingly and grabbed at her daughter's cloak. She handed it over and kicked off her boots and peeled off her soaked socks. She shot Frerin a small smile.

"Mama's very particular about things like this. You'd better give her your wet things, she's quite insistent." He studied his new friend's mother. He'd seen women of the race of men who looked like the woman, but never a darrowdam. There was something exotic about her, and the fact that she smelled like cardamom only made him more curious.

The woman stripped them both down to their skivvies, to where they refused to look at each other, bright scarlet blushes creeping up their necks into their cheeks up to the tips of their ears. After a while, Frerin cleared his throat and called to the vague somewhere over his shoulder where he figured her to be. "So...I came for some silk..."

She just giggled, peering up at him over his own shoulder in a soft, dry dress the color of saffron, her damp honey-colored hair hanging in curtains over either shoulder. "It can wait," she smiled, handing him a steaming hot cup of tea. "Never let it be said that we let our customers catch their death of cold. At least," she amended with a teasing glint in her eyes, "not _before_ they make a purchase."

He barked a laugh and inhaled the herbal aroma. "I'm Frerin," he said, realizing he'd never introduced himself.

She smiled again, her nose and cheeks red in the light of the fire. "Valka,"

 _Of course_ that was her name. _Valka._ It was sweet and exotic and strong and he was staring, he realized belatedly when her smile turned into a smirk. He was staring and he was caught.

Her hair soaked into her dress, leaving dark patches on her chest and back, but she didn't seem to mind. "You needed silk so badly that you braved that storm?"

Frerin shook his head. "It wasn't raining when I left. I hail from Erebor," he lifted his tea in the vague direction of the mountain. Valka raised both brows, clearly impressed. She also clearly hadn't added his name and homeland together to equal _Prince_. "Have you been?" She tossed another branch onto the fire (how they managed to have a fireplace in a wooden wagon was beyond him) and shook her head.

"No, I haven't made it up yet. Father took the rest of the family up yesterday, due back tomorrow, but Mama doesn't like to leave the wagon for too long." She wrinkled her nose. "She doesn't like crowds, and she doesn't like to be alone. I was more than happy to stay behind."

"You have no wish to see the mountain?" Valka shrugged.

"It's not going anywhere, is it?" Frerin was slightly surprised, but said nothing. "I suppose when Father gets back, maybe I can go with him or my brother another day."

"Where is your mother from, if you don't mind me asking?" The woman in question was bent over a stewpot over the fire, stirring and humming a lilting ballad under her breath.

Valka smiled fondly. "Now that," she said, taking a seat at the table and gesturing for him to do the same, "is a long story."

Frerin peered out the window at the storm and shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere." She pursed her lips to hide her amusement but leaned back in her chair, clearly getting comfortable before her story.

"Mama is from the Red Hills, in Rhûn. A very small dwarven colony, founded centuries ago and, when no gold or diamonds or anything interesting were found, promptly forgotten. Her grandfather married a woman from Dorwinion, an Eastern woman by the name of Anahita. Theirs was one of the only human and dwarven unions in the Red Hills. Relations between the dwarven colony and the men of the region are amicable, to be sure, but the races tend to avoid," she squinted, searching for the right word, "intermingling."

"Mama is not looked fondly upon by either party, unfortunately. The dwarves think she's...contaminated, the men think she's odd, but Mama is a proper Dorwinion woman and a proper Darrowdam. She was raised by her mother, Neha, who spoke no Westron, and a nanny from a town on the sea, Ani, who also spoke no Westron, but a Rhûn dialect. My father taught her Westron after they married."

Frerin marveled. "They married without ever having had a conversation?"

"They were in love," Valka shrugged. "When you know, you know."

The hefty woman put a wrinkled hand on her daughter's shoulder and sent Frerin a warm smile, putting down a bowl of stew in front of him. "Vadin is good man."

Valka smiled at her mother. "He's very good."

Frerin breathed in the spicy warm scent of the stew. "It smells wonderful, thank you..." he turned to Valka, "What's your mother's name?"

"Allsún." He nodded.

"And, how do you say 'thank you'?"

" _Eskerrik asko,_ " she pronounced carefully.

Frerin ran it a few times in his head, then turned to face the woman he decided that he'd very much like to impress.

" _Eskerrik asko, Allsún."_ Allsún gasped, beaming and turned to her daughter, chattering away merrily. Valka laughed and kissed her mother's cheek.

"She wants me to tell you that she's happy to cook for such a polite young man any time you like, and she told me that," her cheeks turned a delightful shade of rose pink, "you're very handsome and I should keep you."

Despite her daughter's evident embarrassment, or perhaps because of it, Allsún looked very rosy and pleased with herself and patted them both on the cheeks with soft, worn hands, and bustled off.

Frerin's beard hid his fiery blush, an advantage Valka did not have, so she settled for placing her cool hands against her cheeks and trying to forget that this very handsome, very shirtless man was sat less than a meter away. He lifted his spoon to his mouth.

"Oh, wait!" He froze. "It's very spicy, take _little_ bites." He smirked.

"I can handle spicy, don't worry." She winced and covered her mouth as he shoveled in a very large portion of meat and broth. "Are you alright?"

He whimpered, shrinking in on himself. "Oh dear," Valka murmured, trying very, _very_ hard not to laugh. "You might want to just go ahead and swallow, it'll burn your mouth."

Frerin nodded desperately, and swallowed, then dropped his head into his hands, breathing very heavily. "Oh, Mama, _esne, mesedez_! _Orain!_ " She called over her shoulder.

Allsún placed a cup of milk in front of Frerin, looking amused. Valka shoved it towards him and he snatched it up, gulping greedily. Valka leapt up and grabbed a loaf of bread from the breadbox, slicing off a piece and handing it to him. He tore into it, still breathing heavily. Finally, when both the bread and the milk were gone and his breathing was back to normal, Valka and Allsún decided it was safe to laugh, and laugh they did. Valka at least tried to spare his feelings, covering her mouth and ducking her head to hide her mirth.

Frerin wiped his eyes and nodded. Valka pressed her lips together. "I did warn you,"

"I should have listened." She snickered.

"I'm sorry, it's just- your face!" He'd thought his face couldn't get any redder, but he was quickly proven wrong when another wave of red swept up his cheeks.

Maybe he wasn't the best at listening, but he'd learned his lesson quickly.

Valka gazed at him across the table, her fingers tracing the carved flowers on the tabletop absentmindedly.

Maybe he was a little bit thick, but he was attractive enough for them both.

Maybe she'd listen to her mother and keep him.

Wouldn't hurt to try, would it?

* * *

 **Ok, Val and Allsún are officially my fav mother-daughter duo. Love, love, love.**

 **Ok ALSO the Red Hills are my own invention. While looking at a map of Middle Earth, I noticed that there was an unnamed stretch of mountains near the Sea of Rhûn in the east, and what better place to bring in Allsún from?**

 **And, Allsún's 'Rhûn' language is just Basque, which is a language I happened to stumble across on Google Translate. I think it works nicely, though.**

 **xxBlue**


	3. When Valka Decided to Keep Frerin

_"You can find something truly important in an ordinary minute." - Mitch Albom_

* * *

 _Maybe she'd listen to her mother and keep him._

 _Wouldn't hurt to try, would it?_

* * *

As the skies continued to pour out rain onto the city of Dale, Valka took her father's place and began pulling bolts of silk from a cabinet over a set of neatly made bunk beds.

"May I ask what the fabric is for?" She settled a clean tablecloth over the wooden surface Frerin had just moved dishes off of, and began positioning the bolts by color.

"My sister's Durin's Day gown." Valka raised her brows.

"This would be a fine gown, you must be very wealthy." He squirmed. Somehow, it didn't feel right to just blurt out to this wonderful girl that he was indeed wealthy because he was the second prince of Erebor, third in line for the throne.

"We're...comfortable." She smirked.

"That's exactly what a man positively bathing in gold would say." He shrugged, and she turned her attention back to the silk. "Now, can you describe your sister's coloring? If she's blue eyed, like you, I want to give her something that will bring out her eyes."

He pulled the slightly pulpy list from his pocket. "No, she said she wanted red."

Valka frowned. "Describe her."

He floundered, wondering why he was finding it so difficult to describe a face he'd seen every day of his entire life.

"She looks like Thorin, black hair, blue eyes, she's always rosy cheeked, a bit vain, bless her-"

Valka cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Blue eyes is one thing, but blue eyes and black hair is another altogether. If she were fair haired, I'd give you blue or pink. If she were dark eyed, I'd be happy to give you red or even gold, maybe green, but dark hair and light eyes is a difficult combination." Frerin frowned, only becoming more and more confused the more she talked.

"So, the red won't work?" She winced and held her hands back, as if reluctant to touch the silks.

"No, I'm not saying that. Red will certainly work, I just don't know if it's the best option. Red is a very versatile color, but it's much lovelier on some dams than others. For example, my mother is devastatingly beautiful in red, but it's tricky for me. I have to pick very specific shades of red, otherwise I just look like I've had too much to drink."

Frerin snorted, but it all made sense. "If your sister has similar coloring to you, I'd suggest a blue or a silver, perhaps even purple."

"Purple?" A luxurious choice to be sure. He rubbed at his beard, unsure. "This is all wonderful, Valka, but I really don't know if I should make this choice without Dis."

She nodded and began putting the pinks and greens away.

"I'll just show you the reds then, and you can tell your sister that if she likes, she can come down to Dale and I'll find the best shade for her and exchange the two silks for only a few silvers more."

He grinned through his beard at her, partly because she was making this whole process so much easier, but mostly because she was just so beautiful, her caramel hair still damp, her eyes all aglow in the light of the fire.

Valka paused, her hand floating over a rich violet and silver brocade she'd made her father buy to save for her sister. The rain made the wagon fairly chilly, even with the fire, but with Frerin there behind her, radiating heat, she felt warm and safe in her little wagon with her little mother and her little bed and her great big new friend.

He nudged her gently, pulling her from her reverie. She shook her head clear of the fog and rolled out a warm currant red with gold and black floral patterns. "This one?" He shook his head.

"Dis thinks red and black is a bad combination. I don't know anything about women's clothes but she made sure I knew that."

Valka frowned and rolled the bolt back up, but nodded.

She unrolled a new bolt. "This one would pair nicely with garnets."

He shook his head, chuckling. "Dis always wears rubies on Durin's Day." Valka studied him with a hesitant smile.

"Your sister is very particular."

"That she is." He could have kicked himself at the look on her face. Here he was, prattling on and on about Dis's extravagant particulars and likes and dislikes while Valka and her entire family lived out of a wagon.

"Well," Valka tried again, "perhaps I can find something that be complimented by rubies."

A wine colored velvet came next, and this one looked like a winner in Frerin's eyes. He could even see Dis's favorite pearl and ruby earrings pairing fabulously with it. Valka saw the look in his eyes and pulled out a spool of a soft golden bordering.

"Now," she said, pointing between the edging and the velvet, "I would use a triangular neckline, perhaps sew on some crystals and colored glass to catch the eye, though your sister might want to use rubies."

"Look, Valka, I never meant to imply-"

"I know," she said quickly, too quickly. "I know this is all very humble," she gestured at the happily painted walls of her wagon, "but I'm happy."

"I'm sorry, Valka, I'll come back later."

She let him get all the way to the door before she called out, "Frerin, you forgot your clothes." He stopped in his tracks and hung his head in mild mortification. His tunic, coat, socks, and trousers were still hanging by the fire. He'd tried to leave in just his skivvies.

"And it's still raining." And there was that. This just kept getting worse.

He turned back to her, more than a little embarrassed. She bit her lip, clearly trying hard not to smile.

"Don't you laugh. Don't you dare." She shook her head, eyes deceptively wide and innocent.

"I'm not laughing."

"You are," He accused and she slapped a dainty hand over her mouth, a hand Frerin found himself wishing to take in his own, but he feared he'd break it. Even behind her hand, he could see her eyes, crinkling and twinkling pools of amber beneath thick lashes as her smile split her face.

"I'm not," she protested, "but I'd like to!"

Frerin tossed his head back and laughed at her refreshing cheek. "Alright, Miss Pert, laugh all you like."

Valka just wrinkled her nose at him and turned to poke the fire, giggling to herself. She felt his clothes with quick fingers and handed him his undershirt. "Here, this is dry now." He took it, trying not to flinch when his fingers brushed hers - _knock it off, Frerin, you've been shirtless for the past hour, touching hands is nothing_ \- and tugged it over his head.

Valka gnawed at her bottom lip and looked away as Frerin stretched his arms up over his head, elongating his tantalizingly toned torso. There was no need to get all hot and bothered over a darrow she _just met, idiot girl._ Even now, she could hear her sister Vera shouting at her and her wandering eyes.

She shook her head and took a long drink of her tea, hoping the kick of the spices would knock her head back into place. As she turned, she caught her mother's eye. Allsún was sat in her rocking chair by the fire, watching her daughter and this new man with a mischievous glint in her hawk-like eyes and a knowing smirk on those thin lips. Valka widened her eyes and shook her head. Allsún just pursed her lips and went back to her knitting, but kept smiling that thrice-damned smile to herself.

" _Vera-k ume asko ditu, utzidazu bakarrik._ " She hissed at her mother through clenched teeth. The stubborn old bat just waggled her eyebrows and shooed her youngest daughter back over to the handsome young bachelor with lots of gold. Valka ground her teeth. That mother of hers was so damned set on having a filthy amount of grandchildren, she'd become a shameless matchmaker for her unmarried children.

 _"Gehiago nahi dut."_ Allsún replied sweetly and Valka bristled.

" _Orain ez._ " She muttered, tone hard, and slinked back over to the table. Frerin frowned.

"What was that about?" Valka scowled.

"Mama and I don't agree on a few choice aspects of my future, that's all."

He looked sideways at her, watching those honey gold eyes flashing in frustration as she handled the bolts of fabric a little more roughly than she probably should have.

"Forgive me, but she wants you to get married, doesn't she?"

Valka smiled disbelievingly at him, turning so fast that her hair swung behind her like a sheet of bronze.

"Yes, how did you know?"

He pointed at her face. "Because that's how I look when my mother brings up the same thing."

She laughed and rubbed at her brow wearily. "It's exhausting isn't it? All the shoving and prodding?"

Frerin groaned playfully.

"It's just the worst."

"Mothers," Valka teased, "what right do they have to meddle so?"

Apparently, they hadn't kept their voices low enough, as Allsún came out of seeminly nowhere to give her daughter a hearty smack on the back of the head.

"We have _all_ the right," she glowered as Valka rubbed the back of her head with a wince, then stalked back off to her dry corner.

Flushed with embarrasment and not a small amount of anger, Valka scowled at her mother's retreating figure. "Vicious old bat," she muttered.

Frerin bit his lip trying not to snicker. Not that the smack itself was amusing (though it most assuredly was), but the dynamic between mother and daughter was so refreshingly different from anything he'd ever known.

His mother Dara would have _murdered_ Dis, slowly and painfully, if she'd ever called her a name in public.

Valka got up suddenly, breaking his musings. She moved around the cramped room to a little ladder in the back and disappeared up it, a flash of ankle appearing from beneath her skirts. Daft little thing, she wasn't wearing any stockings.

"Frerin, I've got it! I've got the perfect thing, I've just remembered!"

The boards of the ceiling creaked as she scurried to and fro in the loft he hadn't even noticed and soon her bare feet were decending the ladder again. She had nice feet, he mused absentmindedly. No oddly shaped toes or hard callouses or yellow, broken nails. Just little pink dainty feet that looked as though they should have belonged to some fairy maiden instead of a darrowdam. Dwarves weren't known for having attractive feet.

"Here," she beamed, "will this work?"

Frerin frowned. It wasn't the ruby red Dis had described at length at all, but a deep burgundy, like wine.

"Pair it with silver, I think. I know red usually goes best with gold or bronze or even copper, but I promise, this will look fabulous and the silver will bring out her eyes."

He tilted his head, trying to see it in a better light. "Won't silver wash the burgundy out? Fade it?"

Valka pursed her lips to the side, puzzled, and took the bolt into her quick little hands and laid it out on the bottom bunk, then laid a shining silver ribbon on top.

"Not if you're careful," she decided, tilting her head this way and that to see every angle. "Make sure the silver gleams. Maybe pair it with diamonds for extra shimmer."

Frerin came up beside her and Valka had to bite her lip to refocus her attention to the fabric and not think about how close he was, how neatly her arm fit against his with no jostling or elbowing, the way it was with her brother.

He glanced down at her and nodded, his eyes creasing at the corners as he smiled.

"This is perfect, Valka. Thank you."

Valka would be a filthy rotten liar if she said those words didn't send a wave of delight through her like a warm rain.

Yes, her mother was right. She was going to find a way to keep him.

* * *

 **OK I FINALLY DID THIS. I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK THREE MONTHS OMG.**


	4. When Frerin Wrestled His Feelings

**To my first reviewer, HanaeTakahashi: I'm so glad you like it! I was super bummed that no one writes about Frerin, at least not as much as he deserves, so I'm glad to know that someone else out there is as fond of him as I am! Stick around, dear, it'll get even better! I have so much planned for Valka and Frerin.**

* * *

 _She wasn't doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together._

\- J. D. Salinger

* * *

 _Yes, her mother was right. She was going to find a way to keep him._

* * *

Frerin sat on the porch of Valka's family's wagon with a mug of Allsún's tea in his hands, watching the rain drip off the edges of the small roof. The woman had shooed him outside when she spotted how close they were standing over the burgundy bolt of silk intended for Dis despite Valka's cries of protest.

Valka stood at the window to the left of the door, her arms crossed on the sill and her chin resting atop, gazing out at the same storm. He imagined she was either standing on her toes or had dragged a chair over, because she was most certainly not tall enough to reach otherwise.

"D'you ever wonder what it would be like to see the ocean?"

Frerin turned to look at her, mildly surprised.

"No, not really, why?"

She shrugged. "I dunno, just the thought of all that water and not knowing where it ends or what lies beneath it...it's exhilarating and terrifying all at once." She shivered, then thought another moment and then said, "I think I'd like to see it, just once. Stick my feet in and hope they don't get eaten."

"Eaten?" Frerin scoffed, "By what?"

Valka widened her eyes at him. "Exactly. For all I know, there's a giant sea serpent just waiting to nibble my toes off."

He shook his head, laughing, and turned away again, shifting his grip on his mug to warm every finger evenly.

"My mother's silly, you know." She spoke again suddenly. Frerin looked back. One corner of Valka's mouth turned up as she watched him with those owlish amber eyes of hers. "She's practically foaming at the mouth to marry me off and the moment I meet a man she kicks him out."

Frerin took another swig of tea. "I suppose she just wants you to do it all the proper way."

She snorted. "Damn propriety, to be honest." When he raised his brows in surprise, she flushed and went on. "I just think half of what most consider a proper marriage is hogwash. I mean, the amount of boxes that have to be ticked before a _proposal_ can even happen is just ridiculous. My sister's been trying to marry her betrothed for what feels like years now, all because it's nigh on impossible to find the things required for a wedding when we're always on the move like this. Mahal knows it took months just to convince our father to let her get married at all when Eder hasn't got the money to bring her a handmade gift once a moon."

Valka sighed. "Sorry, it's just, I feel so bad for Vera. She just wants to be able to call him her husband."

Frerin mulled over her words. "I haven't ever thought of it like that. I mean, weddings in the mountain are almost nauseatingly frivolous and mind-numbingly long but I've really only ever heard darrows complain about the cost of it all."

"There's that too." Valka said grimly.

"Your father must make good money, though, to be selling silks of such a quality as that."

Her eyes dropped from the storm to the painted flowers on the steps. "Not nearly as much as you'd think."

Frerin pressed his lips together and stared down into his mug. He always managed to do embarrass himself or say the wrong thing every time he talked, and it was getting old.

He could just see Dis now, watching him with her lips pursed, brows drawn together tightly and blue eyes flashing with irritation. She'd take her slipper off and beam it neatly to land with a thwap just between his eyes and scold him thoroughly. _Don't you see what's in front of you? Can you keep yourself together for just one afternoon with a pretty thing like that, please?_

His sister would certainly be matchmaking shamelessly, smiling and batting her eyes, dropping little tidbits like rose petals thrown by a little girl at a wedding. _Oh, Valka, did you know that once our Frerin rescued five children from a cave-in and escaped unscathed? Oh, Valka, our Frerin is credited with what, hundreds? thousands? of kills. Frerin, why don't you take Miss Valka's arm and help her over that puddle?_

He scowled into his tea. At the thought of such a (blessedly hypothetical) disaster, his mood was beginning to resemble the storm for the first time since he'd lain eyes on Vadin's daughter.

The door creaked open and a little body landed next to his, settling into the curve of his side as the wind picked up.

Frerin glanced down at a head full of copper curls and let his lips curl up contentedly. "Won't your mother have something to say about this?"

She shrugged. "Probably, but I like talking to you, and it's no fun conversing with the back of your head."

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly. Valka shifted, turning her golden eyes up to his.

"I don't blame you, I like watching the storms, too." A bolt of lightning shot across the sky and she gasped in delight, smiling a little. "Especially one this big."

Frerin turned his face up to watch the water dripping off the edges of the porch roof onto the tips of his boots. Valka's little feet next to his weren't even half the size and all of a sudden, he became aware of just how delicate, how breakable she was. And how clumsy he was. The dark storm clouds in his head had begun to dissipate, but quickly scuttled back together.

They didn't stay long. A cacophonous clap of thunder shook the very street beneath the wagon and Valka shrieked, slapping her hands over her ears and launching herself into Frerin's lap. He swore, half in his own fear and half as he realized they were falling off the edge of the porch. Midair, he wrapped his arms around her and twisted, hitting the pavement flat on his back with Val safe and sound atop him.

"Oh dear," she whispered, her hair hanging in curtains around them. She prodded the side of his head and the spot flared with pain. He hissed and she whipped her hand back, only then noticing they were sticky with blood seeping from a scrape where he'd hit an uneven paving stone.

"Oh, Mahal." Frerin grabbed her hand, not noticing how his blood smeared between their fingers.

"Don't worry," he murmured, "I'm alright."

A raindrop slid down Valka's nose, hovered on the tip, and fell onto his cheek just below his eyes. He felt the miniscule impact in his toes, watching the droplets like stars in her eyelashes.

Her hand slid back under his head as she slid her body down off his lap and into the puddles on the cobblestones.

"Come on, let's let my mama take a look at that."

To say that Allsún was less than amused to have Frerin and Valka dripping puddles onto her formerly spotless floor for the second time in one day would be a gargantuan understatement. She wrestled her daughter out of her clothes with only a stern look to deter Frerin from any peeking. Valka emerged from her mother's arms with flushed cheeks and mussed hair.

Allsún was much gentler when ridding Frerin of his own garments but perhaps a little angrier. She parted his hair, tutting disapprovingly at the sight of the small cut, wiping it with a cloth then smearing some foul paste atop it and warning him with a look not to get back up.

Valka waited until her mother's attention was occupied elsewhere and hopped up onto the table. She didn't look at him, though, since his shirt was still missing and she was only in her shift.

She could just hear how her sister Vera would be shouting at her. _Valka, Father will have your head, you idiot girl. Oh, damn it all, you're both half naked anyways, you've nothing to lose in just going ahead and marrying him now. And another thing! Are you trying to catch your death out in that thrice-damned rainstorm?_

Valka shook her head, and the image of Vera dissipated like smoke on the wind.

This was not one of the fantasies the sisters had invented in the dark of night, curled up together in a tent of quilts while Allsún kept watch by the fire, nestled in each other's arms as they dreamed of princes and lords and knights coming to their rescue. This was not one of her mother's fairy tales, best told in a melodious low voice, as they huddled at her knee as night fell, of dragons and sirens and winged horses. This was not compatible with the plan her father had in mind for her: a strong working husband who would whisk her off on some wonderful journey and then hole her away to be his good little darrowdam bride, as he had done with Allsún so many years before.

This was a very handsome, very shirtless man, all but a complete stranger, who had held her hand in his and felt her close to him and for Mahal's sake, he'd seen her in naught but her skivvies! _Twice!_

This was anything but traditional, and she found herself drowning in an endless sea of confusion as she came to terms with how deliciously fun it was, how wonderfully light she felt, how quickly the newfound butterflies in her stomach had learned to dance.

"Copper for your thoughts?"

"Cost you at least three silver," she muttered back, not breaking her thousand-yard-stare. He smirked.

"You're trying to rob me."

"You can afford it."

He was suddenly quite itchy. "S'pose so." She still had no idea at all, did she?

Valka turned her luminous eyes back to him finally. "Frerin, what did you say your father's name was?"

Shite, she was catching on, after all.

He shrugged, he hoped casually. "Don't think I did."

She narrowed her eyes. "If you say Thrain, I might have to deal you a rather sharp kick, I'm telling you right now."

"What on earth for?" He flinched subconsciously and she leapt from the table, parking her hands on her hips.

(Frerin was doing a marvelous job ignoring how he could see her silhouette _quite_ clearly through her shift now that her back was to the fire.)

"Because that would make _you_ PRINCE Frerin and you'd have been lying to me this whole time."

He scrambled for a way out of this, but there was none. He sighed.

"May I at least put my boots back on if you're intent on kicking me?"

She swelled, her eyes widening so far he thought they might pop out, but instead of delivering the intended blow, she dove into one of the bunks and wrapped herself in an enormous garnet shawl.

 _"I'm in my bloody skivvies in front of the bloody prince for the second time today, Mahal if this isn't a bloody nightmare,"_ he heard her mutter furiously to herself as she made sure she was sufficiently covered. Immediately, he felt the blossoming warmth in his chest recede as she flushed in what he could only guess to be crippling mortification.

"Lady Valka, I apologize if I've upset you,"

She flinched as though stung. " _You're_ apologizing?" She scoffed. "Your Highness, _I_ should be...be...on my knees! Because of me, you've nearly caught your death twice and cut your head! _Mahal, the day this is turning out to be..._ "

Frustrated, Frerin grabbed her by the elbows and shook her gently.

"Valka, _stop apologizing._ Breathe. In, out, in, out," he kept going until her breath came in sweet puffs on cue with his voice.

"I should have told you the moment we met, the fault is mine. And I was going to tell you, I really was, but then you were...well, you were you and I was enjoying myself so completely that it escaped me entirely." He let his hands fall helplessly to his sides and watched her through his lashes, trying not look like he was studying her too carefully.

Valka's hands relaxed a little on the tassled ends of her shawl. She took a deep, steadying breath.

"You know, I haven't met very many princes, but I hope they're all like you."

He laughed. "No, you don't."

Valka frowned and Frerin noted absently that as her attention diverted, the shawl slipped a little in and he got another intoxicating glimpse of silky smooth skin, glowing in the candlelight.

"Why not?"

He pulled himself back to the present and sat heavily back down.

"Valka, I'm not very good at being a prince." She peeked behind her just once, to find another chair, and sat quickly, looking for all the world like a child at storytime. "I'm good at hitting things and breaking things and forging things, but people?" He shook his head.

"Don't tell me you're lacking in people skills." Valka tutted and he looked at her, mildly surprised.

"I am, I'm terrible with people."

"And yet," She murmured, lips pursed mischeviously, "I've known you half a day, and it feels like a lifetime. I've never felt so at ease as when I'm with you." Then her brain seemed to catch up with her mouth and she flushed brilliantly, red flooding her neck, cheeks, even the tips of her ears.

"I didn't - that's not -" He ended her embarrassment, catching her hand in his.

"I know what you mean." Their eyes met, and she took her bottom lip between her teeth.

As if realizing how tender the moment had become, Allsún appeared seemingly out of nowhere and smacked their joined hands as she passed.

"Ay, Mama!" Valka cried, reeling back to glare at her mother.

" _Euria gelditu egin da_ ," the aging woman gestured out the window, lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

" _Gelditu, Mama, mesedez,"_ Valka ground out through her teeth.

Allsún planted her hands on her hips. " _Joan behar du!_ "

Frerin glanced between the two of them, unable to stop the vivid mental image of a sparring match from popping unbidden into his mind. He tried to picture Dis and their mother Dara arguing so, but was unable to even imagine such a thing.

Valka sighed and turned to him. Allsún glared at him and pulled Valka's shawl further up her chest. The laces of her stays dissappeared from his sight.

"Mama, for the love of-" she fought her mother off. "She says that the rain's stopped, and so, you have to go back to the mountain now. And from the looks of it," she added mournfully, "your clothes are dry."

Damn, he thought, feeling a sock between two calloused fingers, she was right.

When he'd dressed and looked back over his shoulder, her hair was swept back away from her face, pinned neatly, and she'd pulled on a woolen dress the color of fenugreek seeds and was winding a gold ribbon around her bun.

"What are you doing?" She beamed at him.

"I'm coming with you, at least as far as the bridges."

He stared at her. "It'll take me another few hours just to ride that far."

"I've a pony of my own, I'll be no trouble." She moved on to packaging the burgandy fabric he'd chosen, along with a sample of crystals and silver trimming. "If your sister needs a seamstress, tell her to send for my mother. She's the best I've ever met, and I'm not just spouting off nonsense to get you to give her a job."

Frerin smiled, amused again by this vibrant little thing. "How do I know?"

She just rolled her eyes at him. "I think I deserve the benefit of the doubt at the very least from you, _Prince Frerin._ "

He rested his hands on his large belt buckle and nodded, ceding the point.

"Aye, you've got me there."

Valka reverently placed the finished package in Frerin's hands, took his gold, and handed it to Allsún along with a kiss on the cheek as she skipped out the door, pulling on her boots and fastening her cloak as she went.

The sky was clearing, the sun peeking out from behind retreating clouds. Frerin glanced up to gauge the weather, and satisfied with the results, followed her out the door.

"Come on, we haven't got all day!" Valka called from atop her pony, cheeks already rosy in the sunshine.

He chuckled and swung himself up into the saddle.

"Don't fret, I'm coming."

Seeing that he was seated and situated, Valka clicked to her pony and set off across the cobbled street, peering over her shoulder at him.

Frerin knew even then, that smile would be his undoing.


	5. When Valka Dreamed of Princes

_"You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known - and even that is an understatement."  
_ \- F. Scott Fitzgerald

* * *

 _Frerin knew even then, that smile would be his undoing._

* * *

At this point, a rustle and the faint padding of tiny feet on packed earth made Frerin pause and peek over his shoulder. Little Fili, as blonde as his father, determined as his mother, and mischevious as his elder cousin, was out of bed, one thumb stuffed soundly in his mouth. He stared at them, poorly masked wonder in his Durin blue eyes.

Valkrin looked up at his father. "I think Fili wants to hear, too, Ada."

Frerin hummed in mock deliberation. "Should we let him?"

Valkrin stuck his tongue out at Fili, who scowled and made to throw his sock at his cousin. Frerin put one hand over Valkrin's mouth, well aware he'd be licked and held the other one out to Fili.

"Come on, lad, we're only teasing. I've a spare knee and a long story."

Fili beamed and scrambled up, nestling himself into his uncle's chest. He stuck his thumb right back into his mouth and let the leaping fire and Frerin's rumbling voice carry him far, far away.

Maybe Auntie Val would come back and tuck Valkrin and him in when Uncle Frerin was finished.

* * *

Valka's little pony clip-clopped alongside Frerin's sturdier mountain-bred, the braids in both mistress and mount's hair bouncing.

The bridges from the bluffs on which Dale was built to the road that lead along the River Running to Erebor had risen up in front of them much too quickly. Frerin shifted, two hours in the saddle had made his arse numb, and glanced over at Valka again.

She'd fallen silent, a thoughtful look in her eyes as she watched the grey stormclouds scuttling away from the city.

"Care to climb that tower?" She spoke suddenly, pointing to a winding structure that jutted out over the edge of the cliffs and sported an excellent view of the river.

"I don't mind," Frerin mused, thinking that it was as nice a place as any to have to say goodbye to the most beautiful woman he'd ever met.

She leaped off her pony and led it over to the bottom of the stairs, shooing its nose away from a pot of flowers. He followed her, trying not to be hypnotized by the way her hips swayed or the halo of little curls around her face that shone in the sun.

"Come on, my sister said there's a view to die for up here," Without thinking, Valka took Frerin's hand and pulled him along as she skipped up the steps like a mountain goat.

All Frerin could think when they reached the top was that Vera certainly hadn't lied, the view of the river was spectacular. He was, however, a little more impressed with the view of Vera's sister.

The sister in question was leaning on her elbows against the ledge, watching the birds circling lazily above.

"What's it like?" He hummed, not quite on the same page, and she gestured to the mountain. "Erebor. Are the walls really made of gold?"

Frerin frowned, scratching at his chest through his tunic. "Not all of them." Her eyes bugged.

"Do you really have a bath the size of a boat?"

"It's more of a pool than a bath."

"How long does it take them to fill it?"

"We have plumbing in the Royal Wing." Valka frowned.

"You have what?" Frerin glanced at her, puzzled as she for a moment.

"It's like..." He fumbled, trying to come up with a way to explain indoor plumbing to a woman who lived in a wagon. "Sort of, pipes...pipes and er, pumps and er, they pump hot water from further down in the mountain up to our wing, through an opening, into the bath."

Valka stared at him in rapt fascination. "You mean you just-" she waved her hands in an approximation of machinery, "-twist a lever and hot water _magically_ appears in your bath?"

"It's not magic," Frerin spread his arms as if inviting Valka to bask in his manly, Dwarfish glory, "it's Dwarfish craftsmanship!"

Valka tilted her head back and laughed. "Sometimes even I don't know the difference."

Frerin beamed, laughing with her and simultaneously becoming hopelessly mesmerized by the way several freckles lined up in a perfectly straight line beside her left eye.

Valka caught her breath and bit down on her forefinger to compose herself. Frerin leaned effortlessly on his elbow against the wall and gazed towards the mountain. It was suddenly very difficult to for Valka to breathe again as the sun caught in his shaggy hair, making it glow like spun gold.

After a while of watching the world go by in comfortable silence, they were both suddenly aware of how fast the sun was setting.

Frerin turned to Valka, a look of utmost resignation tugging on his fine features.

"It is time I headed back to the mountain."

She pressed her lips into a line with a sigh. "I thought as much."

Frerin took her little hand, gave it a fond squeeze, pressed a faint kiss to her knuckles, and turned. He tromped down the first three stairs, then paused. Unsure what pushed her, especially since she could still feel the spot where his lips had touched burning, and her heart was still lodged firmly in her throat, Valka found herself leaning over the railing to see him better.

He shaded his eyes with one hand and glanced wryly up at her. "I'd like to see you again."

She beamed. "I'd like that."

He nodded curtly. "Alright then." And just like that, he turned and trotted down the winding staircase as quick as his feet could take him.

As soon as he was gone, Valka turned and slid down the wall until she landed hard on her bum. She smacked the heel of her hand to her forehead between her eyes.

"Stupid girl. _I'd like that?_ " She mocked herself, then let her head fall back with a sigh. "I'm never going to get married."

* * *

Out of sight at the bottom of the stairs, Frerin rested his head on his pony's withers. " _Alright then?_ That's all you could think to say, you blithering idiot?" He mounted, feeling quite stupid.

"Oh, she's never going to marry me."

* * *

When Valka's family came home the next evening, they were buzzing with stories of the mighty Lonely Mountain. Allsún fussed and scolded her children for eating with their mouths full. Valka's brother Verdin, curse his left-handed freakishness, kept whacking her elbow with his until she had more stew in her lap than in her mouth.

"Verdin," She finally ground out. "Would you wait to tell us your stories until _after_ we've eaten?"

"Oh, you're just jealous you didn't go to the mountain with us." He scoffed, wiping bits of tomato from his beard.

Valka wrinkled her nose, but it quickly faded to a smile as she thought of what she would have missed if she hadn't stayed home with her mother.

"What have you got to smile about?" Vera narrowed her eyes across the table.

"I've had the bed to myself for three whole nights. I'm just remembering all that space." She widened her eyes theatrically and gave her shoulders a little shimmy.

Vera just scowled and took a long drink.

Their father finally spoke up. "Any sales while I was gone?"

Valka tried to ignore the way her heart leaped at the very mention of it. "Yes, one, but a large one. A man bought ten yards of the burgundy wine velvet, silver trimming, and some crystals to put on the bodice."

"How much did you charge?" He drilled through a full mouth.

"Seventeen gold, four silver, and few coppers."

Vadin shrugged. "I would go a little higher next time, my girl, but well done."

She glowed under the rare praise and tucked back into her food, happy with her little family around her.

* * *

That night, in the dark, Vera rolled over and poked Valka to see if she was still awake. "Valka?"

"I'm awake, Vera, get your claws out of my back."

The sisters shifted, tossing and turning until they were facing one another, eye to eye. Valka raised an eyebrow. Even in the dark, she could see how Vera was biting her lip in sheer excitement.

"Oh, go on then, before you boil over."

"I saw the prince," Vera gushed in a single breath.

"Which one?"

" _Both_! Oh, Valka, Prince Thorin is _devastating_." Valka shook her head, endlessly amused by this bubbly sister of hers.

"What's he like?"

Vera gasped. "Oh, he's so stern, but it makes him look dignified and brave. His hair is black as a raven's wing, he wears it long so that it flows about his shoulders, and his beard is rather short but just as dark. His eyes are the most piercing blue, like they can see right into your soul..." Her eyes were comically wide and Valka couldn't help giggling a little. "And his nose-"

"Vera, I don't give a fig about his nose-"

"-it's very aristocratic and strong and-"

"You make it sound as if a woman could fall in love with the man for just his nose."

"Well, I suppose one could."

Valka snorted. "For Mahal's sake, when has a woman ever fallen for a man and thought, _Mahal, his nose just does me in_?"

Vera was conspicuously quiet. Valka frowned. "Vera..." -nothing- "Vera?" -still, she said nothing- "Vera!"

She could hardly breathe through her laughter. "Oh, Mahal Vera, I'm sorry, it's just- you picked Eder for his _nose_? I'm so sorry, I'm sorry," She gasped as Vera kicked her under the covers. "But, Vera, he's got such a big nose," She held her hands out from her face to illustrate.

"Well," Vera murmured, looking for all the world like a cat who caught a canary, "you know what the locals say about men with big noses..."

Valka gasped, snatched up the end of her braid and whapped Vera across the forehead with it as she cackled madly. "You filthy little minx! It's as if I don't know you!"

"Oh, come on, Val, I'm only joking."

"You'd better be, imagine if Mama had heard you." Both sisters shuddered.

They settled into a comfortable silence, rolling onto their backs in the plush mattress and gazing up at the painted stars on the ceiling, barely visible in the light of the dying embers in the fireplace. Valka laced her fingers through Vera's on top of the quilt and pressed her freezing toes to her sister's calf.

"Valka!" Vera cried, wrenching her leg away.

"Just for a moment," Valka whined, "they're icicles."

"Yes, I can feel that," The elder sister sniped, but let Valka burrow her toes back into the warmth.

"That's much better. Now, what about the other prince?"

Vera frowned for a moment, then nodded sharply as she remembered.

"Yes, Prince Frerin." Valka caught her breath, waiting for the same rapturous praise to come spilling out. "He's alright, I suppose."

Valka gaped, not quite sure why she was so offended.

"Just alright?"

Vera wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, I mean, he's not as handsome as his brother. He's large, not fat by any means, but he's built rather like a bear. His hair is dark and scruffy, but more brown, almost like almonds. He's not charming or dashing, but he's not ugly."

Valka pulled her hand out of Vera's under the guise of untwisting her nightgown where it had bunched about her hips, growing more and more agitated by the second.

"I will give Prince Frerin this, though," Vera started back up again, "He seemed to be fairly glowing when he rode in last night. Grinning like a loon to himself, kept looking back out to Dale. And now that I'm thinking about it, he had a parcel with him and it must have contained national secrets or crown jewels by the way he handled it. Cradled the thing to his chest like a babe." Valka almost missed what came next in her flushing excitement. "I'm fairly sure I even saw him smell the parcel, like a man who keeps a whiff of his lover's perfume on a kerchief."

Valka had indeed sprayed a bit of her perfume on the parcel when Frerin wasn't looking.

If it hadn't been the middle of the night, Vera would have seen Valka gnawing at her bottom lip to disguise a foolishly large grin and pressing her cold fingers to her cheeks to abate a raging blush.

He hadn't forgotten about her.

She closed her eyes and held very still, clinging to the image of his face and the sound of his laugh in her mind like a shipwrecked sailor to driftwood, and waited for Vera to think she'd fallen asleep.

She didn't want even Vera to interrupt this, didn't want anything but Frerin to be on her mind as she fell asleep.

* * *

 **I have a quick question: do you want to keep seeing the flashes to Frerin and Valkrin at the beginning of chapters?**

 **Another note: I've come up with a cast for this story!**

 **Frerin: Gerard Butler as Beowulf**

 **Valka: Lily James**

 **Vera: Emilia Clarke**

 **Allsún: Yami Gautam (just imagine her a little older...)**

 **Dis: Katie McGrath**


	6. When Frerin Sorted His Priorities

_To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life._

 _-_ Victor Hugo

* * *

 _She didn't want even Vera to interrupt this, didn't want anything but Frerin to be on her mind as she fell asleep._

* * *

To say that Dis was more glad to see the bolt of fabric Frerin brought home than Frerin himself would be very accurate. He didn't make it back to the mountain until long after the sun had set and the moon was lighting his path, but there she was on the battlements, arms crossed, an eagle eye watching for his return.

She threw up her hands and scuttled off towards the spiraling staircase as he dismounted and led his pony towards the groom waiting in the wings, a halter and lead rope in his hands. "Water him well, it's been a long ride." The young boy nodded, slipped the poor creature's bridle off, replacing it with the softer halter and leading him away.

"Frerin!" Dis yelped, launching herself into his arms. He grunted and shifted to juggle both parcel and sister. "Here, give me that, did you get the red?"

"Of course I got the red, you blithering ninny." Dis turned and whacked him, looking thoroughly put out already. "It's a good thing you've so much hair, Dis, to cover up all the nothing in your head."

"And what have I done to deserve this?"

He grumbled, ignoring her and pushing his hair out of his face to glance back to the glowing beacon leagues and leagues away that was Dale. Valka was surely in bed by now, he thought. Had she made it back to her wagon alright?

"What are you smiling about, you loon?" Frerin sighed, the illusion of his Valka dissipating with Dis's grating voice.

"Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing."

"I will put frogs in your bed again," He warned, pushing past her to the steps.

She scurried after him, eyes glinting dangerously. "Frerin! Come now, I know you, there are very few things that make you smile that way! Did you win a bet?"

"No."

"Did you win a race?"

"No."

"Did you win a contest?"

"No."

"Did you win...something?" She tried once more.

Frerin paused, head tilted to the side, thinking. Valka was the greatest prize he could ever imagine, and if he had his way, she'd be his one day, sooner rather than later.

"Yes," He finally decided, "I did."

Dis smiled prettily, looking very pleased with herself. Frerin was even more pleased with himself because he'd managed to shut her up without telling her anything at all.

Finally, blissfully alone in his own rooms, he took a long, hot bath, washing the muck and grime of three days on the road from his body, and the stench of pony and smoke and wet foliage from his hair and beard. But, no matter how many times he scrubbed at his scalp, he couldn't shake the warm scent of Allsún's stew.

He gave himself a thorough shaking-off, dried, dressed, and padded into the next room, rubbing his neck with one large hand.

In the drawing room, Dis and Thorin were sat about the fire, Dis with her new fabric, Thorin with a book. They both looked up and flashed him warm smiles as he meandered in and took his own seat between them.

"How was Dale?" Frerin hummed, acknowledging his brother as he poured a drink from the decanter on the end table.

"Dale was fine. It rained all the way there and half the time I was in the city. Took me hours to find that merchant, Dis." Thorin snorted and slid a ribbon into his book to mark his place, closing it and setting it aside.

"And you're not ill, a miracle to be sure."

Frerin shook his head, already feeling a pleasant warmth settling in his gut as he sipped more of his drink.

"No, I met a family who fed me and let me dry my clothes. The merchant's family, actually."

"That was incredibly kind of them, Frerin. I hope you thanked them appropriately." He rolled his eyes at Thorin.

" _Yes,_ Thorin, I'll have you know I do have some manners."

"Really?" Dis inquired wryly, turning the silver trim Valka had so carefully wound and packed over and over in her hands. It coiled and twisted in her lap, slowly turning into a mess of tangles. Frerin winced and opened his mouth to say something.

Thorin leveled them both with a hard look, very clearly warning them _not to start anything so help him Mahal._

The eldest's will was something Dis and Frerin had long ago learned not to defy, and so the conversation was quickly diverted elsewhere.

"I met a girl," Frerin blurted, not quite sure how much longer he'd last with an idiot mouth like his. But, Thrain's children had never kept secrets and they weren't about to start now.

Dis gasped, dropping her baubles. "Really! Oh, Frerin, why didn't you say something sooner?"

He shrugged, he hoped carelessly, but Thorin, irritatingly perceptive as always, narrowed his eyes.

"You think we will not approve. Why?"

Frerin shifted, trying to think of how best to put it. Valka was not wealthy, she had no status, no family name, no connections, no commodities of any great relevance, no meticulous breeding, no knowledge of court etiquette or politics. Bringing her to meet his family would be a _disaster_.

"She is not...not someone Mother would choose."

"She is common." Dis cut in. Frerin disagreed heartily. Valka was anything but common in his eyes.

"Perhaps not in that way, Frerin," Thorin interceded, noting the change in his brother's stance, "but is she from a reputable family?"

"Not that I know of," He shrugged.

"Is she wealthy?" Dis grilled.

Frerin thought of the little wagon and the stacked beds, the worn cooking pot, the patches in Valka's socks. "I don't think so."

"Does her family have any connections?"

"I don't know."

Dis folded her hands decisively. "Then there is no logical reason why you should ever need to see her again."

Thorin frowned. "Dis," He didn't agree, but he didn't exactly disagree either.

This was exactly what Frerin had been afraid of. Why did he ever tell Dis about Valka?

Dis just shrugged, picked up her things, and stood up. "Well, I'm off to bed. Goodnight, you two."

Only Thorin replied.

Dis planted a hand on her ample hip and frowned. "Frerin, don't be angry with me, you know I'm right."

He thought that he would very much like to be angry with her anyways, so he still said nothing. Dis sighed. "I'm sorry you feel that way, _nadadith._ Goodnight."

She slipped off, closing the door quietly. Thorin picked his book back up, opened it to where he'd left off, and sighed.

"You must concede she has a point. Mother and Father would never let you marry her."

"Then I'll leave the mountain."

Thorin's eyes shot up, genuinely surprised for once. "Frerin, you're being rash, you've met her once, and besides, you're barely of age."

Frerin stood up, good mood thoroughly trampled, and clapped Thorin on the shoulder. He hoped his frustration wasn't evident; fighting with Thorin never did any good.

"I'll think about it, _nadad._ Sleep well."

* * *

Frerin kept his word and did indeed think about Valka, just not in the way Thorin or Dis meant.

No, he _dreamed_ of her, dreamed of her bottomless amber eyes and the way even the simple ribbons in her hair made her look like a goddess.

He imagined running his fingers through her hair and sitting her on his lap and going on walks and all the silly things young pairs did when in the throes of a blossoming courtship.

But he knew that when the lass's father didn't approve, or, in his case, the lad's mother, there were no walks on the battlements at sunrise, no exchanging of gifts, no blissful afternoons spent purely in each others' company.

He wanted that, more than he thought he should, and for a moment, the sheer intensity of his emotions washed over him as he stared up at the ceiling in the dark and he feared he would drown in them.

No, he wouldn't drown, he decided firmly. He would fight. He would _swim_.

* * *

Valka wasn't surprised in the slightest when a week went by with no sign of her secret bear prince.

He was, after all, a prince. She was just the youngest daughter of a traveling merchant.

If she was honest, her dowry was pitiful. She'd been compiling it since the day she was born, adding spare coins to a jar whenever she passed, knitting and embroidering and stitching and painting and dyeing and weaving until she thought her fingers would fall off.

Valka, like her mother, had always had a way with fabrics. With a needle and thread in her hand, she could bring the world to life with just a few stitches and well-placed knots. Nevertheless, no matter the quality of her creations, fabrics were of little value to Dwarfish kind when there were gems and precious metals to be had.

Even though she knew it was silly to sit out on the steps and watch the horizon for Frerin, she did anyway, like a fool. She sat with her embroidery hoop in her lap and a basket of threads beside her and hummed to herself, trying in vain to take her mind off of him.

Allsún was less than pleased with this absentminded development in her daughter. Her work was slower and decidedly more sloppy with her mind a million miles away with some rock-brained Darrow. The waitlist for their skills was piling up with Valka slacking. And, to be completely honest, she was almost desperate enough to hand Vera a needle, inept as the poor girl was.

Vadin and Verdin were gone all day long until well after dark, as was their custom, so Valka had only her mother's scolding to bother her all day. Vera was content to stay well out of everyone's way and consequently avoid the inevitable call to sewing. Allsún, thoroughly frustrated with her children's uselessness, had taken to going out on deliveries by herself.

It wasn't until two full weeks had gone by that Valka was tiring of this seemingly empty endeavor, but she decided one more day wouldn't hurt anyone. She was so lost in her own world, detailing the petals of a rose she'd added to the hem of a shawl, that she didn't look up until a real rose landed right in her lap.

Valka's eyes jerked up and she gasped, flinging her hoop to the side and leaping into Frerin's arms.

"I thought you'd never come back," She whispered, only half teasing.

He set her back on her steps and winced. "I'm sorry. I had to escape my sister."

Valka collected her things, peering back over her shoulder at him. "Did she like what you picked?"

"She liked what _you_ picked for me very much." She beamed and held out a hand.

"Come on then, come in. Mama's left a stew cooking." At the sight of his wary, prey-like eyes, she laughed and grabbed his wrist, pulling him up the stairs with her. "Don't worry, it isn't spicy."

That, at least, was a relief.

* * *

Vera was having a nice, quiet morning wandering the market by herself, basket slung in the crook of one elbow. She took up a melon, gave it a squeeze, and held it up to her nose to check the scent. The sweet aroma flooded her nostrils and she sighed, closing her eyes blissfully. She paid the merchant and continued on her way.

Valka had been acting differently as of late, but that was far from out of the ordinary for her little sister. The girl still hung mulishly tight to the stories of princes and fae folk their mother told at night around the fire, and could be most definitely counted on to go missing once in a while and turn up the next morning, dirt on her face, flowers in her hair, life in her eyes, and claim she'd just lost track of time.

Vera shook her head. _Silly girl,_ she thought, _What will you do when the flowers die? When clouds cover the sun and the fire goes out?_

 _What will you do when the world is suddenly dropped into your hands?_

What would poor Valka do when she was forced to realize that no shining captain in armor was going to come riding up the hill and whisk her away to live in his palace in luxury forever? When she saw that the world wasn't all good?

Well, then Vera would have to be ready to catch her sister, because when Valka's world came crashing down, she would certainly crash with it.

The sunny morning suddenly less cheery now that she was well and truly concerned for her honey-eyed sister, Vera abandoned the market in favor of going straight home. She wanted to see Valka, see that all was still well with her own two eyes.

Vera was certainly not expecting to open the door and find a large man sitting across the table from her little sister, who was mid-laugh, her cheeks attractively rosy, her bare feet swinging to and fro above the floor.

Vera would have cheerfully set herself on fire before ever, _ever_ , expecting that she would open the door and find her little sister having tea with the _Prince of Erebor_.

When her shopping basket hit the floor, Valka looked up. She smiled at Vera, completely at ease.

"Oh, good, you're home." Vera felt the blood drain from her face as the _prince_ turned to beam congenially at her over his broad shoulder. And, as if she didn't feel as though she'd been kicked by a mule before, she did when he got up and took her hand, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles.

"You must be the Lady Vera." _He knows my name._

Valka laughed.

"Easy, there, Frerin, I think you might've broken her."

The large prince dropped Vera's hand and turned to glance worriedly at his lady love. He desperately hoped he hadn't really broken the poor girl, he hadn't meant such a thing.

Vera stood mechanically still, mouth opening and closing like a fish, trying to grasp onto a coherent thought and express it.

Valka was beginning to look uncomfortable, eyes shooting between Frerin and Vera with an odd kind of fear, like a little fawn. She cleared her throat.

"Well, I've bread in the oven, some cheese in the cupboard, and Mama's stew. Should we eat?"

Frerin's whole countenance brightened and he turned, plopping back into his seat, eagerly awaiting his lunch. Somehow, Vera found herself dropping into her father's usual seat at the end of the table. She was very obviously staring, and it was very obviously making the prince uncomfortable, but she couldn't seem to stop.

 _Oh, Mahal, I told Valka he wasn't attractive._

A burning humiliation crept up her bosom, neck, and cheeks. She was blotching and wide-eyed, and this was certainly not doing any favors for the prince's opinion of her.

As Valka passed behind her to get to the napkins, she pinched her on the side, hard, and hissed in her ear: "Vera, close your mouth _for the love of Mahal's left buttock_."

Her mouth snapped closed, rather stupidly.

Frerin smiled politely. "So, you're Valka's sister." She could only nod. "I've heard quite a bit about you."

"Really?" Vera squeaked, torn between feeling horrified and flattered.

"All good things, don't worry!" Valka smirked, looking far too self-assured for Vera's liking as she gathered the dropped shopping from the floor. It was her duty as the elder sister to take this smug little brat down a few pegs.

Who did she think she was, pulling a stunt like this?

As soon as the shock passed and the prince was gone, Vera was going to be sure Valka was well and truly put back in her place.

* * *

 **If you or a loved one has been diagnosed with sibling rivalry you may be entitled to financial compensation.**

 **I did this on my other story and people really seemed to like it, so here is a list of stories that I HIGHLY recommend and you all might like if you don't feel like sifting through endless lists:**

 **There is a time by Syvania**

 **In search of a Queen by Doodlewolf**

 **To Go Home by PickleDillo**

 **Kings and Sweetmeats by lena1987**

 **On the Road to Find Out by Jenny-Wren28**

 **The Broom Bearing Baggins of Bag End by Wynni**


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